Imprint of a Memory
by amyxaphania
Summary: Memories of a bad-Buffy-birthday help Dawn grieve for her sister. Dawn PoV, Spike-Dawn friendship.


A/N: This was written for a Fic Marathon at the Buffy Boards forums. The theme was "Buffy's birthday" – and this is probably stretching the Buffy-birthday theme a little . My first time writing Dawn PoV, so forgive me if it's not quite right. Thanks for reading :)

**Imprint of a Memory**

Giles suggested that we start clearing all of Buffy's things away. He got that pinched look on his face when he spoke, and the glasses came off for a clean.

I didn't really know what to say – what could I have said, really?

_Sure, go ahead and get rid of the last links I have to my sister, who cares?_

But the decision was made for me, when Willow told Giles in no uncertain terms that we would not be getting rid of Buffy's stuff, it was too soon and anyway, the bot needed her clothes.

Ah yes, the bot. Sometimes, I hate it. I hate it at the times when I remember what it was originally built for (because I _do_ understand – I'm fifteen, not five). I hate that it looks so much like Buffy that I almost think she's come back to us, but those are the times when I like it a little bit too.

Anyway, it was Giles' suggestion that we sort through her things that got me in here. Her room. It's the first time I've come in here since she… since the tower.

I look idly through her jewelry box. A dozen crosses, pretty earrings and a few rings. Things she'll never wear again.

A half-empty bottle of perfume sits on the dressing table, the remote control to her television idling next to it. I move around the room, trailing my fingers across the surfaces.

There's no dust on anything, so someone – probably Tara – comes in and cleans.

"Hi, Dawn!"

Oh great, it's the bot. She's wearing Buffy's favorite pair of pants.

"Hey." She's just a robot – a mess of silicone and wires, but she wears the face of my sister and I feel like I have to answer.

"Willow sent me to tell you that she's going to Xander's. She's gay!"

"Am I going too?"

The bot looks confused. "No. Spike is coming. I like Spike, do you like Spike?"

"Yeah, Buff- Buffybot. I like Spike."

"Me too! When Spike gets here, I will go patrol."

"I think I'm going to stay up here for a bit," I say, and the bot nods, smiles cheerfully and leaves the room.

Holding a conversation with it is exhausting.

Spike's coming to look after me. Who'd have thought it? The Big Bad babysitting a teenage girl doesn't sound too likely. But oddly enough… it's cool. He's like my only friend nowadays anyway.

I lie down on Buffy's bed. Mr. Gordo is on the pillow, his black eyes staring glassily at me. It won't hurt if I just close my eyes for a little…

***

When I wake up, Spike is kneeling on the floor next to me. You'd probably think it's kind of creepy to wake up to a vampire staring at you, but it's weirdly reassuring when it's Spike.

"All right, Bit?" he says, a worried half-smile on his face.

"I'm good," I say, and sit up slightly, hugging Mr. Gordo to my chest. "How long was I asleep?"

"Got here about two hours ago," Spike shrugs, "you were already sleeping."

"Did the- the Buffybot get back from patrol?"

"Not yet," Spike says, his voice sharp. "Bloody thing."

"You liked it once," I tease, and then immediately wish I hadn't when Spike's face becomes hard and closed-off.

"Yeah, well, things change."

I turn Mr. Gordo around and around in my hands, not sure what to say to him after his swift mood change.

We sit in silence for a while, the only sounds the light tapping on the window from the branches of the tree and the soft rustle of Mr. Gordo's well-worn fur.

"I gave this to Buffy, you know," I say, a short time later, holding Mr. Gordo up for Spike to look at. "For her tenth birthday."

"Yeah?" Spike looks wary. So far we've avoided talking about Buffy – it's too painful for us both.

"Yeah," I say, smiling slightly. But then my face falls as I remember. "Except – not. Because I wasn't real then, was I? Mom or dad must have got it for her. Wonder why the monks made it so I gave it to her?"

"Who knows, pet," Spike says, and he reaches out to take Mr. Gordo from me. "Ugly thing, in'he?"

"Buffy loves… loved him," I rush on, to try and cover my slip. "At that birthday party she tried to pretend she was too old for a toy like that, but when all her friends had gone home she had it like, permanently attached to her."

Spike makes a small noise – a sigh or a cough. I take it as a sign to keep talking. This was the first time I'd wanted to talk about her since she'd gone.

"Yeah, I always thought clinging to stuffed animals was what little kids did, but Buffy's never- she never was one for rules, you know? The day after her birthday mom and dad took us to Disneyland, and she had to bring the stupid pig with her. Nearly lost it on Space Mountain, too."

I frown. "I think that was the year that started the whole Buffy's birthdays are bad thing."

Spike snorts. "Yeah, she didn't have much luck with them, eh pet?"

"No," my eyes fill with tears. "And now she won't ever have a birthday again."

A line forms between Spike's eyebrows. "Here now, Nibblet…" It looks like he wants to put his hand on my shoulder or hug me or something, but he doesn't.

I wipe my eyes and pull my knees up to under my chin. Mr. Gordo lies forgotten on the bed.

"I'm okay. Just… do you think we could keep talking about her? I haven't really…"

"Course," Spike says, and there's a small smile on his face. "Why not tell me about all her disastrous birthday parties, yeah?"

And I do.


End file.
